The Thin Line Between Love and Hate
by mlwd
Summary: A collection of one-shots where Derek and Casey realize what they hate to love about each other.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: **Each chapter will alternate between Derek and Casey. Not all of them will be this short. Thanks for reading :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Life with Derek

* * *

_Casey's POV: He's messy. _

He's messy, obviously. The entire family is to be honest, but he's the worst.

That morning, her mother tells her to tidy up the house a little. Her and Lizzie have already attacked the catastrophe downstairs and now its time for the upstairs.

First on the list, Derek's room.

He has hockey practice that starts at 12 and ends at 4. It's 2 o'clock now, so she's got two hours before he comes back home and kicks her out.

His room's a wreck.

You can't see the carpet because his clothes are strewn all over the floor. His closet's filled with old crap from when he was kid and hockey trophies. You'd think he'd keep them in a safer place. Oddly enough his desk is coated with books. Probably just to keep his bag lighter. She's afraid to approach what's under his bed and turns out it's just a few wrappers from candy bars and what not.

She finds an old photo album in his drawer and goes through it for a while, sitting on his freshly made bed, thanks to her. She tries not to notice that he was a cute kid. She quickly puts it back into its place once she hears the front door close and makes her way downstairs.

He obnoxiously drops his hockey bag at the bottom of the stairs and goes to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He's gonna leave the jar of peanut butter open on the counter. He always does. She's gonna put it away. She always does.

Surprisingly, he's serious about his personal hygiene. She knows this from the tiny pieces of hair and shaving cream he leaves all over the sink every once in a while. She gets a weird feeling when she realizes she shaves, but she tries not to think about it. Whenever they wrestle, he doesn't smell completely atrocious. There's a hint of cologne there, but something else she can't quite recognize. Somehow he always manages to find relatively clean clothes to wear.

When he comes downstairs for dinner, he doesn't say anything about the new appearance of his room. He doesn't yell at her for touching his things or invading his privacy. She doesn't ask why.

She even does his laundry and purposely drops it off in his room while he's there. She goes in without knocking and hopes that he'll be pissed his wardrobe smells like lavender and a spring meadow. He isn't. He barely looks up from the magazine, but she's pretty sure she heard a 'thanks' on her way out.

So that's the way it's been since then. Every Sunday he finds his room spotless because she realizes that all these things are what makes him so...him. It's all just so familiar and comforting and just so _Derek, _that she can't help herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **Thanks for reading :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Life with Derek

* * *

_Derek's POV: She sings_

He comes home from Sam's house and all he wants is a sandwich. He's about to sit in his old recliner and call for Edwin to make him one, but then he remembers his Dad and Nora took the younger kids to the zoo.

Casey's in the kitchen with the stereo playing singing along to latest meaningless pop song, while stirring something on the stove. Walking in, he notices that it smells good, but doesn't say anything about it of course.

She doesn't acknowledge him and he follows her example, but she stops singing now that he's there.

They expertly skirt around each other, still wordless, in the tiny kitchen with her going through the cabinets for ingredients and him heading to the fridge then back to the counter.

He's adding lettuce to his sandwich when a song he knows comes on. It's by Taylor Swift. She _loves_ her, he _hates_ her. She plays it often from the stereo in her room and sound travels. He's practically memorized the lyrics by now. Unfortunately, it gets stuck in his head from time to time.

She really wants to sing, he can tell. She's looking into the pot biting her lip and he looks down to notice her foot tapping to the rhythm. He hates it when she sings. She's not bad, but it's stupid and loud and he just hates it. He decides to let her, just this one time. It's her favorite after all.

He shakes his head with a smile and tells her, "Go ahead. You know you want to."

And she's surprised he knows so she asks, "Really?" to which he just nods.

That sets her off. She's belting the lyrics at the top of her lungs and dancing around the counter, swaying her hips to the music. She's using the stirring spoon as a microphone and he finds it cute. He doesn't say so. Obviously.

_If you could see that I'm the one who understands you_  
_Been here all along, so why can't you see?_  
_You, you belong with me,_  
_You belong with me_

Smiling to himself and biting back his laughter, he goes to the cabinet to get some crackers to go with his sandwich.

Pretty soon he can't help himself and starts humming along. She stops when she notices this and quirks an eyebrow at him questioningly. Embarrassed he says, "What? The wall between our room is thin," and goes back to humming. At this, she cranks the stereo up to full volume and grabs his hands, inviting him to dance with her.

"Nope, no way. This is where I'm drawing the line." Never gonna happen, he thinks, but she's moving her hips and jumping around with their hands still linked and he notices it's the first time he's ever seen her let loose. So he dances. A little bit.

They're both jumping now and doing the corniest dance moves they can think of. He takes her hand again and spins her around and then pulls her in with his arm around her waist and they're both laughing too hard to take in how stupid they look. He even dips her and it's not graceful so she almost falls, but they're still laughing and he doesn't remember when he started singing.

The end of the song is coming up, so he grabs his can of easy cheese as a mic for effect and belts out the last line of the song with her.

They're both panting with smiles still etched on their faces, but they both turn their separate ways, back to their meals.

They don't speak of it, ever, but its known to happen again now and then. Only when they're home alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: **Thanks for all the views guys and it would really mean a lot to me if you reviewed with what you think or any suggestions you may have. And I'm probably only going to do 10 for each Casey and Derek, but maybe more if I think of them along the way. They're going to get longer, just bear with me. Again, thanks for reading :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Life with Derek

* * *

_Casey's POV: He hits the snooze button way too much _

School starts at 8:00. It's a 20 min drive there. They have to carpool.

So she wakes up at 6:00, extra early, to make sure she's the first one in and out of the bathroom. She showers, brushes her teeth, does her hair and her makeup, and has breakfast all before he wakes up. Because she doesn't want to be late.

She prepares herself to hear his incessant alarm blaring, loud enough to wake the Davis' next door, but obviously he sleeps through it.

He sets his alarm for 7:00 and she hears it going off all the way downstairs. Snooze.

Then it goes off again at 7:05. Snooze.

Then again at 7:10. Snooze.

And again and again until its 7:30 and he's still sleeping and there's no way he can be ready in 10 minutes if they want to make it on time.

So she angrily trudges up the stairs, goes into his room and all the anger vanishes when she takes in his appearance.

There he is shirtless, clad in just his boxers, with his blanket bunched up near his knees, one arm bent under his pillow, the other at his side. She knows now that he sleeps with just one pillow, not two. His hair's more disheveled than usual and his mouths hanging open just a little bit, but of course, Derek Venturi does not drool. He looks...innocent...vulnerable...and maybe even cute (even though she doesn't want to admit it). His breathing is deep and relaxed and she can see his chest rising and falling slowly. Not that she's staring at his chest (ok, yeah she is). He doesn't snore. Well, not loudly.

Before she can help herself there are a million thoughts running through her head. No, not ones like that. Thoughts about how she wouldn't mind waking up in the middle of the night and turning to her side to this image again. To have him inches away from her, breathing just like that, with his mouth open just a crack. And then she remembers that this is _Derek _she's thinking about and the only thing that matter right now is that they're gonna be late for school.

So she braces herself and taps his shoulder with one finger. Then two. Then she pats with one hand, before finally deciding to shake him.

Instantly he jolts up, panicked, and whisper-screams,"Huh? Is everything ok?" and she's biting her lip, trying to keep from smiling.

"Everything's fine, it's just that its 7:30 and we're gonna be late."

"Oh," he replies lamely. He takes a second to yawn and rub his eyes with the back of his hands before realizing she's still standing there and he's just in his boxers. He feels his face get hot and his cheeks turn a little pink, before stuttering, "I g-gotta change."

At this point she actually thinks her insides are melting because here she is making Derek Venturi _blush _and its her turn to say, "oh."

They're late. Just that one day, because the next day and every day after, she lets him hit snooze a couple times and goes into his room at 7:15 and wakes him up at 7:20, just so she can have the image fresh in her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** Thanks for reading and remember, reviews and suggestions are welcome :) Sorry if this is sucky, I wrote it pretty quickly. I'm not happy with it, but I posted it anyway.

Note 2: Updates are going to take a longer time now that school has started, but I'll try my best

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Life with Derek

* * *

_Derek's POV: She wears my clothes_

"Smerek! You have to come out! The game is in two hours!"

"Coming Smarti!" is what he manages to squeak out before puking into the toilet bowl for the fifth time since that morning. The playoffs were today and as usual, Derek was having his last minute nervousness. He liked to think of it as a "pre-game ritual". He had to be at the school in an hour to go over the strategy for the last time with the coach and the rest of the team.

He slowly picked himself up off the bathroom floor, flushing the vomit down, and heading over to the sink. Quickly, he rinsed out his mouth and brushed his teeth to rid himself of the putrid smell, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat. Then splashing his face with cool water and fussing up his hair, he took a deep breath and finally came out of the bathroom he had locked himself in after breakfast that morning.

The first thing he sees is _her._ In _his_ jersey.

"What are you wearing?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Mom told me and Lizzie to wear your old jerseys to show our support at the game! Isn't that great?" Casey said brightly, obviously not noticing his demeanor, or simply choosing to ignore it.

"Yeah, I can see that. Now take it off."

"Oh come on, Derek, it's not like you need it anymore."

"I know I don't need it anymore, but it's still mine. Now take it off and wear something else, literally anything else," he said, his jaw clenching.

"No," is her firm reply and she turns to go downstairs, with the 'Venturi 01' mocking him from behind.

He chases after her. He hates it when she wears his clothes. That one time after he pranked her was enough. She can't be in his clothes. It's too distracting. Just something about her wrapped up in something that was once his, something that smells like him, represents him, just messes with his head too much. It's because he doesn't want her girly scent on it, he tells himself. He doesn't want Klutzilla in the stands cheering and have everyone knowing she's there for him. Yes, that's exactly it.

"Come on just take it off, its mine!" he calls after her.

"Why? You haven't worn it since freshman year! Lizzie's wearing one too! What's the big deal if I am?" she yells back.

"Because you're gonna get your Casey-ness all over it and its MINE!"

"Oh, you think I want to be wearing it? Do I look like I want to be covered in Derek sweat?"

"Then what's the problem? Just take it off!"

"I'm only wearing it because Mom thought it would be a good idea to show you some support since you're really nervous about the game!"

He scoffs."I am NOT nervous! And I don't need your support!"

"FINE! Then I guess I just won't come to your stupid game anyway!"She swiftly rips the jersey off, thankfully wearing a tank top underneath, throwing it at his feet and retreating up the steps.

"It's not a stupid game!" he yells dumbly, after her door slams.

George, known for his impeccable timing, finally comes to the dining room where the whole scene took place, and asks, "What's with all the yelling?"

"Oh, nothing, Casey's just throwing a fit and making everything about herself as usual," Derek says, raising his voice to make sure she hears.

"Derek, I get that it's your day and everything, but could you try not to be so rude to her all the time? Please."

"She started it Dad."

"Well, you can go end it. Ed, Liz, Marti, Casey! We've gotta go now or we're gonna be late!"

Edwin, Lizzie, and Marti quickly emerge from their room, heading down the stairs and to the door to grab their coats.

"Nora! We're ready!"

"Coming, Georgie!" she says, hurriedly coming from the basement and heading straight for the door. "Where's Casey?" she asks, putting on her jacket.

"Not coming," Derek replies, shrugging on his own leather jacket.

"Case! Get down here, please! We don't want to be late!"

"I'm not coming since I'm so obviously not welcome!" she yells down.

George and Nora send glares at Derek, to which he just shrugs.

"Get her down here and be in the car in five minutes," is all George says before him, Nora, and the kids head out, slamming the door behind them.

Sighing, he grabs the jersey from his feet, and heads upstairs.

When he enters her room she's laying on her bed, facing the other way, so he can't tell if she acknowledges his presence.

"Case, come on, we're gonna be late."

"I'm not coming. Just go."

He sits on the edge of her bed, not facing her. Running his fingers over the pattern on his pink sheets, thinking about what to say. He decides to go with honesty. "Of course, I need your support. I want you there, I swear."

"No, you don't."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't. So please, just come. For me. Please?"

She sits up at the sound of him saying please, with an incredulous expression. He turns around, hands her the jersey, still not looking at her, and walks out before she can say anything else.

* * *

They win. Of course, they win. He plays better because she's there. It's because she thinks the game is stupid and he wants to show how great it can be. That's why he looks for _her_ in the stands, every time he makes a goal. It's his duty as a proud Canadian. It's not because he wants to impress her, at all.

Everyone's cheering and patting him on the back as he makes his way to the family car in the parking lot.

He gets a pat on the back from his Dad, a hug from Nora, Lizzie, and Marti, and a high-five from Edwin. They're already piling into the car, when Casey makes his way over to him, and they hug. It's one-armed and awkward because his hockey bag gets in the way, but it's a hug.

When they finally make it home after celebrating with the rest of the team at Smelly Nelly's, its almost 10 o'clock.

He watches her make her way upstairs, clearly tired, and gets there just in time to see her kick off her shoes and collapse onto her bed.

He smiles and shakes his head, heading to his own room, and even though he's worn-out and exhausted, sleep won't come because the only thought running through his head is that she's right next door. Sleeping. In his clothes.

He loves it when she wears his clothes.


End file.
